The Kraken And The Dragon
by The Sci-Fi Bard
Summary: What happens when a beast of the sea and salt and a beast of the air and fire meet? Will the battle be won or lost? Will the wheel be broken or remain whole? Will love wither or bloom?
1. Chapter 1

Everything had been going _so_ well.

From the meeting in Mereen, flirting and coming to a quick mutual understanding.

To time spent enjoying each other's company, days walking the cool pyramid side by side, discussing tactics for the coming battle and the many pressures and pitfalls of being a woman who leads thousands as opposed to the myriad kings and princes who came before them.

They bonded over their regretful fathers, utterly disappointing brothers (Theon apart of course), a sorrowful lack of sisters and a wry, subtle humour which saw both women tease the other without hint of malice or pointed barbs.

Yara's initial overt interest never waned, but instead melted into a quiet respect with a heavy dose of yearning on the side. It was obvious the Targaryen was no simple beauty and the more they talked the more she suspected Daenerys had faced more hardship, pain and obstacles in her young life than anyone had a right to. The Khaleesi had enough men falling over themselves to bed her that it felt churlish to add to that burden.

So even though the Iron Born (and her men would have laughed themselves hoarse to learn of this) would have liked nothing more than to take her to bed and ruin her for anyone else, _permanently_ , she found herself quickly deciding she would be whatever this small, extraordinary, golden-haired slip of a woman needed her to be to help her 'break the wheel'.

And if that was a confidant who shared teasing grins, reassuring words but not said bed, then so be it.

After all, that's what the pleasure houses of Mereen were for.

And if she only took short, blonde whores to bed since arriving in the port city, what of it?

She was the rightful heir to the Salt Throne and she would do as she pleased.

Yes, considering their position before they arrived at Mereen, everything had been going very well. The mere fact that Euron was still breathing felt like an abundance of salt in a particularly painful wound but with the Targaryen's promised help, that would hopefully resolve itself sooner rather than later and then it was only a matter of seeing the Khaleesi onto her Iron Throne before their alliance paid for itself.

They had indeed been wise to come here.

Though every time the Lady Reaver Of Pyke caught herself staring at Daenerys like a starving man stares at that one piece of fruit he cannot quite reach, that wisdom wobbled somewhat on its foundations.

"Theon?"

"Yes Sister?"

"If you catch me staring in the general direction of the Mother Of Dragons and it seems I'm daydreaming or overtly lost in thought, do me a favour?"

With a small frown, Theon replied, "Very well. What?"

"Hit me as hard as you can upside the head?"

"WHAT? Why?"

"Never you mind why. You'll be doing me a favour is all. Just do it." Yara growled.

But Theon's frown remained. "But you'll just hit me for hitting you!"

Yara sighed, resigned. "No. I really won't."

Theon watched his sister stride away with a purpose, though he could not for the life of him think what.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, things had been going so well. And then they got even better.

In the space of a few fraught weeks, Euron was dead, gutted like the rotten fish he was, then Cersei followed him, torn limb from limb and burnt to a crisp by Rhaegal and suddenly it was all over.

The Mother Of Dragons sat on the Iron Throne, all her enemies dead or roundly beaten and Westeros breathed a collective sigh of relief.

The Mad King may have burned whole cities for naught with his hated green fire but his daughter achieved her worthy goal of peace with far far less loss of life using Dragon fire. And every one of those deaths laid heavy on her heart.

No, she was nothing like her Father.

She was born to rule, yes, she was strong and fierce but also compassionate and she made Yara's heart race like only one other ever had.

When Daenerys Stormborn finally, FINALLY sat upon the Iron Throne in King's Landing her eyes sought out the Salt Queen's. Yara gave her a roguish grin and a wink as if to say _"told you we'd do it!"_ making the Khaleesi dip her head briefly to her chest to stifle a smile before raising her eyes, her steely stare making sure every single person assembled in the Red Keep knew who now ruled all of Westeros.

Yara took her leave thereafter, uninterested in the multitude of meetings and discussions that go on after one ruler is suddenly and violently replaced by another, and sent a raven to Pyke, informing them that she was now the rightful Queen.

They had done it.

 _She_ was finally Queen of the Iron Isles.

And Daenerys was finally queen. _Her_ queen, she reminded herself wryly. But a queen she would willingly serve, not like the much hated Cersei, under constant threat of the whim of death and terror.

She found herself wandering the halls then, almost aimlessly until she came upon a staircase that lead up, up, up to a heavy wooden door that opened out onto, as it turned out, the roof of the Keep.

And there she sat, back against the cold stone and gazed out across King's Landing until twilight fell, stars peeping slowly out in small groups, painting the blue/black sky beautiful with tiny twinkling dots.

She thought of many things in those hours alone; how the Driftwood and Iron Crown would finally feel placed upon her head, how she would try and manage to convince her people to give up raiding and raping so they could remain, essentially, a free people – it would be hard but hard was all she'd ever known and the reward would be worth it in the end.

And lastly, she thought of the Mother Of Dragons.

Their alliance had worked, the fruit of it ripened and plucked, just remained now to be eaten by both their people.

They had needed each other before – Yara in desperation with nowhere to turn and nothing but a 100 ships and Daenerys in dire need of a navy.

But what now?

What now with the battles won and their enemies gone?

True, the Iron Isles would still provide their navy and expertise of the sea. A strong ruler needed a strong army and navy to hold power. But the reason for Yara to stay was now moot.

She would have to return to Pyke to take the crown. To finally walk back into her later Father's castle and and at last sit the Salt Throne in the Great Hall.

She could not stay in King's Landing. Yet she did not want to leave.

No, that was a lie. It was not King's Landing she hungered for, with it's austere beauty and regal atmosphere. It was Daenerys.

The thought of not seeing the diminutive blonde queen every day, of not hearing her laugh, not seeing her smile, not offering her arm as they walked side by side discussing everything and nothing set a breathtaking pain in her chest.

But the Salt Throne called to her too.

Stay, and remain by the side of the woman she ached for, when there was little hope of anything other than friendship between them or go and claim her birthright, begin to lead her people, finally fulfil the burning dream she'd had ever since she was but a child – that she could be a better ruler than any of the men in her family had ever hoped they'd be.

By the old gods and the new this was hard.

And it became infinitely harder when the heavy wooden door to the roof creaked outwards, causing her to scramble to her feet in readiness to face….

The Mother Of Dragons. _Of course._

"Oh, it's you..." And if Yara's tone reeked of resignation instead of relief she couldn't help it.

A regal eyebrow raised. "Charming. So this is where you've been hiding? I was beginning to wonder if Viserion hadn't eaten you for supper…"

And despite herself, Yara snorted at the image, leaning back, stood against the wall she'd warmed for the last few hours.

Silence stretched out between them then. Torches twinkled to life in the city much like the stars in the sky as night fell properly.

Yara didn't know what to say. There was far too much and most of it she would never voice aloud, so she remained silent.

"I thought I'd feel _happier_." The new ruler of all Westeros breathed.

Yara turned but kept her silence, eyes holding an unreadable expression.

"It was always Viserys, wanting to go home, wanting to regain the throne, wanting power. Always wanting, wanting, wanting. And I wanted that too, I did. After all, the throne is mine by right of birth. But now I have it, I thought it would feel, that I would feel…."

The Iron Born looked down and slowly held out a hand, palm up. The blonde stared at it as if it was a foreign object at first, then slowly slid her own hand into it it. Yara laced their fingers together, squeezing gently, offering a small, tangible piece of support.

The rightful Queen of Westeros suddenly looked so very very young and so very very small.

The need to say something witty or sarcastic, break the tension of the moment bubbled up in Yara but she shoved it down and instead, not really giving it a second thought, held out her other arm and found herself immediately with arms full of small blonde holding onto her with an almost vice-like grip, Yara's soft leather jerkin bunched in her fists, one at her chest and one round her back.

She leant her cheek atop the head of spun gold and breathed out. "It's alright. It's _overwhelming_ , I know. Getting everything you've ever planned for after so long. You can't really believe it's real almost. But it IS. And you'll get used to it. You're strong. Stronger than all of us. You'll get used to it and you'll rule. You'll rule long and you'll rule well. You'll carry on breaking chains and flying on giant lizards and before you know it the Targaryen name won't conjure up a Mad King who slaughtered innocents with green fire, but a tiny fierce queen with dragons for babies who can't hold her liquor worth a damn!"

The reference to the time they'd imbibed before eating one evening, causing Daenerys to end up needing help back to her rooms was always a topic for teasing between the two.

The slap to the chest she got in reply was worth it though.

"C'mon, WHO gets tipsy on just THREE glasses of Dornish red? You're Queen of all Westeros now, you really need to up your game if you're going to drink with princes and nobles every week…"

The chuckle, muffled as it was into the Iron Born's chest, was a welcome sound, but it soon morphed into heaving sobs that wracked the small frame in her arms.

Letting out a deep sigh, she gathered the suddenly fragile woman to her fully, squeezing tight and pressed a kiss into her hairline as she cried.

And things had been going SO well.


	3. Chapter 3

Yara was no fool. She knew what she felt. She'd felt it once before, all those years ago back on Pyke when her most pressing care was trying to avoid her older brothers so they couldn't gift her daily bruises or sneering taunts.

She had felt it, revelled in it, luxuriated as it filled her chest with warmth and her stomach with mobs of butterflies.

And then had it taken **_brutally_** away from her.

Since that moment she had learned to live without it. It was simpler, far less complicated but always lonely to a certain extent.

A night spent between a whore's legs usually pushed that loneliness back far enough so that it was only a dull, muted ache. A dull, muted ache was merely a pain and pain was no stranger to anyone from the Iron Isles. A salt wife here and there helped too, but still, she was a woman who lead among men so feeling too much for anything other than her ship and the sea was perceived a weakness she couldn't afford.

So she hadn't afforded it.

She took women to her bed when the need arose for a night (never longer) and she loved the men of her crew as loyal brothers and friends as they loved her as their Captain, but nothing more.

And then they had to come to Mereen in dire need and agreed to an alliance with a woman with lofty ambitions and a trio of dragons. Yara had expected Daenerys to be a ruthless ruler, hell bent on getting what she wanted at any cost.

What she'd actually found was a tiny girl with a fierce spirit and a steely gaze, who actually listened to her advisors, who freed slaves, who could walk unharmed out of fire and who soared on the back of beasts long since thought gone from the world.

Daenerys was _extraordinary_. Who WOULDN'T fall in love with her?

So yes, Yara knew what she felt but she said nothing, gave no indication, and then they had won and the battle was over and everything started moving like quicksilver until she felt it falling through her fingertips like dark grains of sand one jarring afternoon.

She walked into the Red Keep to see Daenerys on her throne, greeting a party headed by, of all people, Jon Snow, her Brother's sort-of adopted brother.

She hadn't seen him for many years of course and the last time he'd been but a boy, scraggly, with a patchy, woefully weak attempt at facial hair.

But now, here he was as a full grown man, every inch the King Of The North, with kind eyes, a full beard, a handsome face and the Mother Of Dragons was looking at him as if he was a particularly fine slab of moist beef.

The new Queen of Rock and Salt halted her stride as if she'd run into a stone wall and stared at the tableau before her. They spoke quietly so she couldn't really catch their conversation but their body language spoke volumes.

Yara knew flirting. Yara LIVED flirting. And this was a tableau of very very obvious mutual interest.

She briefly wondered if that's what she and Daenerys had looked like that day they met in the Great Pyramid of Mereen.

Bile rose in her throat and a peculiar, strangled noise escaped her without her consent.

"My my, I didn't realise Jon Snow had arrived. That's _interesting_ …"

She hadn't even heard Tyrion sidle up to her. Grinding her teeth at her shocking lack of awareness she nodded and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

A sobering thought came to her then. Suddenly and quite clearly, like a bell rung a dawn.

"What will she do now that she has the Throne? What will her next move be do you think Lord Tyrion?" She tried to sound as casual as possible while she was slowly screaming inside.

The clever little man next to her rocked back and forth on his heels, considering his ever present goblet of wine as if it held all the answers. And perhaps it did.

"Well, once you've played your hand in the Great Game and you have a throne, you of course have to find effective ways to keep it. She'll have to consolidate her power as much as possible. With my dear, sweet, homicidal Sister out of the picture that will prove much easier, thankfully."

"Consolidate?" Again, it was hard to appear only vaguely interested when it was literally every single iota of information she needed to know.

He regarded her then, eyes narrowing, then shrugged. "Yes, strengthen ties and alliances, bring others into the fold if possible, that sort of thing." His beady eyes drank in the scene of overt flirtation going on before him and he added as an afterthought, "Of course the simplest way would be through marriage. That's the oldest and most direct way to…"

But Yara cut him off with a rushed apology. "Forgive me Tyrion, I must take my leave." Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room as fast as legs could go without actually breaking into a run.

"Oh, bye then. I do SO enjoy our scintillating conversation…." He rolled his eyes, staring between where she'd exited and back to the meeting at the throne. Quickly deciding the meeting was of far more interest than the mercurial sea captain he grumbled "Women!" into his drink as he moved closer to the intrigue in front of him.


	4. Chapter 4

It was much much later in the day when everything that, up until then had been going so well for Daenerys, started to swiftly unravel.

"Missandei, have you seen Lady Yara?"

"No, I am sorry Khaleesi, I have not. Have you tried the docks?"

The Mother Of Dragons sighed. "No. You're right. She's probably there. I'll ask Grey Worm to check for me. Thank you."

But when Grey Worm returned, Lady Yara was not, indeed, at the docks.

Or anywhere else, it transpired. And the Targaryen jaw hung wide in abject shock.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S _GONE?_ "

The stoic Unsullied leader blinked. "Captain Greyjoy is gone. Her ship is gone. All her ships are gone. I asked many people. Two said they had returned to their home."

Daenerys' jaw was practically on the floor. "Gone HOME? To the Iron Isles? To PYKE?"

"Yes, Pyke of the Isles of Iron, that is what they said."

"Varys! **_VARYS!_** "

His bald pate shining like a polished marble floor, the man in question slid efficiently into the room. "Yes your Grace?"

"Grey Worm says Yara has gone. LEFT!"

"Yes your Grace. Her fleet left late this afternoon."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the blonde took a breath and lowered her voice from a shout to an extremely strained whisper. "WHY wasn't I informed of this Varys? WHY wasn't I informed my entire _navy_ would be leaving? Am I not now Queen Of Westeros? As Queen, a tiny detail such as, oh, _I don't know_ , my ENTIRE NAVY LEAVING PORT should be brought to my attention, NO?"

It was blatantly obvious to Varys, of course, that " _navy_ " meant " _Yara_ " but he hadn't gotten to where he was in life by being suicidal, so he played along.

"I was informed of their imminent departure while you were in your audience with the King Of The North." The implied _"so I didn't want to disturb you"_ almost made it worse. "I was also informed Prince Theon was remaining behind so knew if you had any questions you could ask h.."

A sharply raised hand from the blonde cut him off.

"And do you, by any miracle of a chance, know where Prince Theon is _now_?"

"I believe he is down at the training yard at the docks your Grace."

"Grey Worm, _with me_ please."

Varys tracked his queen as she swept out of the room with a resigned shake of the head. "Oh Greyjoy, you've really gone and done it now…"

Grey Worm followed her rapidly through the bustling docks and up to the training yard. As they neared he moved ahead of her, and, glancing through the grate of the gate of the yard and seeing Theon engaged in sparring he shot an arm out, stopping Daenerys from swinging open said gate and barrelling into a potentially dangerous situation. "No Khaleesi. Wait until bout over. Go in now, men may pull strike wrong, injure themselves or you. Wait."

It wasn't often his queen glared at him as if she wanted to melt him on the spot with Dragon fire. It almost startled him, but his training won out and he simply stared back stoically until she sighed and stood back from the gate impatiently. They watched the bout wind down, the clashing of steel on steel tailing off and once the two men had finally grasped arms he opened the gate for his queen and followed her through.

"Prince Theon"

"Your Grace" He bowed in reply, breathing heavily.

Grey Worm ushered the other startled combatant out of the round yard and stepped through the gate, closing it behind him to stand guard.

Daenerys suddenly felt silly. She didn't know what she was doing. What was she going to say? ' _Where the hell is your damned sister!?_ ' wasn't exactly becoming of a queen. So she changed her tack.

"Why did you not return home with your fleet?"

Theon was many things, but he wasn't stupid. At least _not anymore_. He'd seen how close his sister had gotten to the Mother Of Dragons, even though she pretended otherwise. The two had sought out each other's company like magnets to iron since the day they'd met in Mereen.

He smiled. "I thought perhaps I might be needed _here_ your Grace."

His knowing look momentarily confused the blonde. "How so?"

Taking a step closer, Theon chuckled briefly. "I thought YOU might need me. After my foolish Sister decided to suddenly stampede all the way home like a spooked mare."

Daenerys pondered briefly how unseemly it was for a Queen to stand with her jaw on the floor twice in one day.

"I….I don't understand…"

Taking pity on the poor woman, he gestured to the large wooden weapons box to one side of the yard and walked her over to sit down. Once they were settled he took a deep breath and began. He wasn't the confident speaker he once was, but this was important so he knew an explanation was owed.

"My Sister is extraordinary in a lot of ways. She's had to be. Growing up in the Pyke you always had to pay the Iron Price for most everything in life and being a woman too? She has paid. By the Gods she has paid. My Father raised his sons to be warriors, leaders, but Yara? He never really included her in that. He would have had no use for a girl. Only sons. But the thing is, Yara didn't care. She was overlooked and ignored time and time again and she didn't care. She learned everything we learned, usually better and quicker than we did. I'm still not sure how because I know my older Brothers didn't help her."

Daenerys ached for the young Yara, hearing what she had had to deal with, but she felt incredibly proud of her too, growing into the strong leader she now was, by all accounts, pretty much entirely by her own hand.

Theon continued, his words flowing more easily as he went on, "It didn't help when my stupid Father started a stupid rebellion that saw me taken hostage by the Starks. I was an assurance that he would stay in line and that meant I was gone from home for years. Years where Yara had no one but herself to rely on I presume, because my Brothers were almost an exact copy of our Father. They would have sneered and scoffed at just about anything she said. Had they been in a barn that was burning down around them and my Sister pointed at the open door and shouted at them to run they would have stood there and burnt to ash rather than prove her right."

He bent and picked up a tiny stone at his feet and whipped it viciously across the yard. They watched it ping off the curved wooden walls and thunk down in tiny puff of dust.

"I was gone and then my Brothers went and got themselves slaughtered and Father was left with just one viable heir."

"Yara" Targaryen lips curved with a grin.

"Yes, Yara. I'm pretty sure Father got the shock of his life when she turned out to be a more thoroughly capable son and heir than any of his actual sons and heirs he'd actually bothered to impart his _vast_ wisdom to."

They both chuckled.

"She has helped me so much Theon. Without her…. friendship I would hate to think how the last few weeks would have gone. Without your navy and expertise of the sea my Khalasar may have arrived at King's Landing in a sorry state and not fit for the battle we then won. I owe you both so much. SO much. And I…." She trailed off and Theon remained silent. Sometimes silence can speak so much louder than words.

"Why would she leave without saying goodbye? I just don't understand."

The Ironborn Prince patted his new Queen's hand gently then withdrew.

"I was getting to that part actually." He bumped their shoulders gently with a wry grin prompting the Mother Of Dragons to blush. Actually BLUSH. He could see how his Sister had become so easily bewitched by this woman.

"I take it you spoke at length with Yara about many topics?"

Dany nodded eagerly.

"I'd imagine you never discussed matters of the heart though."

The blonde was about to correct him immediately, but found she could not. A quick sort through her memories came up with not one single conversation about such a thing, except, "I spoke to her of my late husband, Khal Drogo."

"But **_she_** never spoke of such things, did she? Not once."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realised he was right. Yara had not.

"Do not fret your Grace, she does not speak of such things to anyone. Or at least anyone and then leave them still breathing thereafter. It's not her way. It never even occurred to me that she did not. She was just Yara, my Sister. A brother should never know too much of who his Sister takes to their bed so it never came up."

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Theon's shoulder sagged somewhat. "When I finally managed to go home after my time with the Starks, I tried to learn of every little thing that had happened in my absence. I was starved of home and so soaked up that knowledge like a sponge. Among the tales were many about my Sister of course. One in particular caught my attention. When she was 17 she was always seen in the presence of the blacksmith's daughter. I believe Eavis, no, Eviss was her name. Yes, that was it, Eviss. Though I don't remember her at all, I was told she was pretty and carefree, sweet and generous and doted on my Sister."

Somehow the Khaleesi suspected this tale would not end well. And she was right.

"Yara was away visiting a neighbouring isle on a trade voyage when our village was attacked by raiders. Many were killed. Eviss was among the slain. Had her throat slit. When Yara returned only half a day after the raiders left, she came home to chaos and found Eviss slaughtered. Several people told me she held the girl's body and howled for hours. Days even. Not cried. Howled. I was told even a deaf and blind man could have heard and seen how much she'd loved her. I was told she stayed with her body for 3 days, and in that time she didn't drink, eat or sleep. Then she built a pyre, burned her body and scattered the ashes in the sea, as is our way. Wouldn't let anyone help. Then she left. She took a small ship, more of a boat really and was gone for weeks. Some started to suspect she'd up and left. Ran away, y'know? When she finally came home she returned with the heads of the men who had raided the our village."

The Iron Born sat wringing his hands over and over as he continued. "There were 28 heads. She took poles and stuck them in the ground all along the shore, mounted the heads on them looking out to sea. As a warning. As a punishment, because she was letting them see what they would never have. You have to understand, we are of the Drowned God. When we die we are buried at sea, or if not, cremated and scattered in the sea. But we always go back to the briny water. When the heads began to rot badly I was told she gathered them up and walked inland and buried them. Presumably she'd done the same with the bodies, or maybe she left them to be picked apart by birds and wolves, no matter. All that mattered was they would never feel the blessed embrace of salt water again. She damned them. She killed them and damned them all, all by herself. 28 men. Alone. At 17."

Daenerys Targaryen's hands weren't pristine. She had killed in her life. She'd burnt the Khals and, she'd had people killed deliberately, but the thought of hunting down and killing 28 men single handedly, men who were ruthless, murderous raiders, while she was basically still a child was almost beyond comprehension.

"They said the murder of Eviss changed her. Took away something vital. After that she was ruthless. Almost as ruthless as Father. Nothing stood in her way and nobody stopped her from doing what she wanted, what she thought best.

As far as I'm aware, there has never been anyone else for her since that young girl."

The blonde wasn't sure exactly how old Yara was. She thought somewhere around her late 20s though. If that was true it meant she'd gone a decade without knowing the love of another. It made the Targaryen's heart clench in her chest to think of it.

"Don't get me wrong - Yara has had plenty of women in her bed – I know for a fact the whores of Mereen sang her praises like a well drilled choir." He flicked his eyes to the woman next to him. _"Especially the blonde ones…"_ he thought but never voiced aloud. Not yet.

"No, my Sister never lacks for company of the female variety. But love? That she simply will not countenance. She even has a stupid rule never to take the same wench to bed twice!"

Theon suddenly stood and Daenerys had to crane her head back to catch his eye.

"Do you know what my Sister said to me today? **_We're leaving_**. That's it. No explanation, no reason for the extreme haste, nothing. She came storming up to me as if a pack of direwolves were chasing her and informed me we were leaving. I told her I would stay and she never even argued with me. She just nodded once and marched off. I half expected a tiny thunder cloud to follow her spitting lightning, so dark was her mood."

Dany grimaced, still lost and confused, prompting another sigh from Theon.

"Yara would _never_ normally take the fleet and leave suddenly without explanation, especially from the scene of our greatest victory. She's a planner. A master tactician. Meticulous."

"But then WHY?" Dany beseeched.

Theon just grinned down at her like a rogue, as if it were obvious. "She's scared."

Of all the things she was expecting to hear, the Mother Of Dragons was not expecting _that_.

"Scared? Of what! The battle is won, she finally has her Salt Throne, I the Iron Throne just as we planned. What could there possibly be left that could frighten her enough for her, to, what, FLEE?"

"Not what. Who."

"Who? What do you mean WHO?"

Theon almost felt like he was explaining something inordinately simple to a very young child. It was exhausting!

"Y'know, I spoke to the Lords Varys and Tyrion shortly after she left. They told me John Snow had sought an audience with you. Tyrion mentioned Yara witnessed his arrival. He also mentioned he and Yara spoke briefly about your possible plans now that you finally have the throne. And then she turned on her heel and left without a backwards glance as if the little Lannister had called our Mother a slattern."

Stormborn eyes grew angry. "THEON! My patience IS NOT infinite!"

Squatting down on his haunches, he finally made himself useful. "Your Grace, I believe my Sister thinks you will accept the hand of the King In The North to solidify your power."

The Khaleesi barked out an astonished laugh. "That's ridiculous! Jon Snow wasn't even offering his hand. He came to plead for more men for the Wall!"

"Be that as it may, Yara believes otherwise."

Dany felt a headache forming. "But that doesn't explain why she left. Without telling me!"

"Daenerys…"

"Why wouldn't she say something to me?"

" _Daenerys!_ "

"Why would she take…"

"DAENERYS! BY THE DROWNED GOD, SHE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

And just like that, for the third time that day, a Targaryen jaw hung in the vicinity of the floor.

And it all really had been going SO well…


	5. Chapter 5

_"_ _What?"_ It was just a breath really. Not even a whisper.

Laughing up at the sky, Theon shook his head in sympathy. "You really didn't know?"

The Mother Of Dragons couldn't seem to form words and just stared back at him in shock.

"Your Grace" he added gently, "Yara is only truly happy when she's on a ship. How often have you seen her on one since our victory? Since before that even? Since we came to Mereen?"

The blonde narrowed her eyes in thought. "Well…..I…..she was always in the Great Pyramid. Or here in the Red Keep."

" _Exactly_. She was with YOU. Or near, so that if you needed her she would be available. She's barely set foot on her ship or any other, apart from the voyage here and the battle. The sea is her home, it's where she's happiest, the most at peace. The sea gives her joy. I once heard her say solid ground under her feet felt odd. Too firm. That there's not enough movement. She needs the gentle rocking of a deck at sea to be content. She's never truly still. But she stilled herself. _For you_ …"

Daenerys was astonished. How could she have missed this? This huge, astonishing important thing? Was she truly blind?

"But, she never said anything!" Rising, the Targaryen paced the yard, hands flying, expressive, arguing with herself. "How am I to know what is in another's heart unless they tell me!"

"Come now your Grace. Are you saying she never once _showed_ you? Never once put your needs before her own? Never made you smile or teased you until she drew, at the very least, a quiet chuckle from you? Never helped you whenever she could with whatever you needed – advice, a shoulder to lean on, someone to sound your ideas off of, someone to challenge you, to walk beside you as well as follow?"

And Daenerys realised that was _exactly_ what Yara had done. All that and so much more. Then she remembered finding the Salt Queen alone atop the Red Keep, her taking her hand, falling into her arms, a kiss placed in her hair, a cheek resting comfortingly on the top of her head as she was held while she fell apart. How safe she had felt then. How cherished. Complete.

Head whipping round she stared at Theon, comprehending.

"See? She did, didn't she. She may not have said it, but she showed it to you day after day."

Voice quiet, Daenerys slowly agreed. "She held me. I found her on the roof of the Red Keep. She took my hand and she held me. I was weak. I couldn't stop the tears from falling. She held me tight. Told me I was strong and that I couldn't hold my liquor." She smiled at the memory, eyes watery with emotion.

Theon barked a laugh at that. It was so very Yara.

"She _teased_ you. She only teases those she trusts. Those she loves."

But the Khaleesi was confused once more. "She kissed me on the top of the head, but she never tried to KISS me. Not once!"

Theon threw a pitying, almost sarcastic look her way. "Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Mereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regnant of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons….."

A blonde brow furrowed. "Yes?"

He began to grow tired of her lack of awareness. He would tease her a little more then take his leave. "Did YOU ever try to kiss HER?"

As predicted she looked suitably baffled and appalled. He held a hand up quickly stopping the pending tirade about propriety and noble decorum that was sure to follow.

"Daenerys, you have so many titles. You are so much to so many. You have genuine power that you have earned with hard work, blood and wits. You are the Queen of all Westeros. Suitors fall over themselves to, I'd imagine, bed you if not wed you and you could have your pick of any man, any person you wanted in the land. My Sister is known for taking what she wants. But she would never pursue something or someone she could never have a realistic chance of getting. That's not the Iron Born way. It's why my Father and Brother's over ambitious folly failed. I'd imagine she never once entertained the notion someone such as you would love her back. So she fashioned herself the very best confidant and friend she could be for you. If that was all she could have you as then that was what she would settle for. Better that than the possibility of outright rejection. Better your continued company than the alternative. Better to stand tall and bend a little than be cut down entirely at the knees. She had love ripped from her before, so long ago. She would do everything in her power to see that never happened again."

He swallowed noticeably. "Fear really **is** the most powerful foe to conquer. I of all people should know."

Immediately taking a step closer, she laid a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing in sympathy.

"Theon, I shall be forever in your debt. THANK YOU for staying. You were right. I did indeed need your help after all."

They shared a wry grin.

"'Twas a pleasure your Grace"

"Please. Call me Dany."

Pupils dilating with surprise, he bowed slightly.

"In that case, 'twas a pleasure, Dany."

He bowed again with a grin and made his way over to the gate to take his leave, but couldn't resist teasing to the last so called over his shoulder, "Before you see her again, if you need any _help_ , I'm sure any of the blonde whores of Mereen could give you EXTENSIVE notes on her preferences…" Then stifling a bark of laughter at the poisonous look she shot him, he slipped out as quick as his legs could carry him before she had the waiting Captain of the Unsullied remove his head for his cheek.

She'd stayed standing in the yard after Theon took his leave, hands perched on her hips, her head titled back, regarding the grey sky above her deep in thought.

It disturbed her greatly that she could have missed something so important staring her right in the face for so long. How was she to rule all Westeros if she couldn't even see something right under her nose? Could those around her plot her downfall and she remain blithely oblivious?

"No. A coup is nothing like a romance. You're being foolish."

Grey Worm, hearing his Queen speak, stepped through the gate. "Khaleesi?"

She waved him away, using the distraction to start a slow walk hugging the wall around the training yard, arms crossed over her chest, sandals kicking up tiny puffs of dust as she went.

Grey Worm eyed her discreetly through the gate. His Queen was clearly troubled, brow furrowed. But she'd dismissed him so he'd leave her be to work it out herself. She was strong. He thought there was nothing she couldn't accomplish should she put her mind to it.

A half a candlemark of pacing later saw her with no clearer a mind.

Her thoughts swirled, examining and re-examining every interaction the two women had shared since meeting originally in Mereen. Whilst it was patently obvious Yara had been flirting with her during that initial interaction, try as she might, every memory after came up short with overt overtures since then. She'd noticed the Iron Born often stared between her eyes and her lips when they talked, but she'd just presumed that's how Yara talked. Everyone acted differently whilst talking, staring straight in their eyes, never wavering or flitting from eyes to around the room, never alighting on one thing too long. But, looking back, Yara was always looking straight at her. Mostly her eyes but would dip down to her lips, almost without her realising, then flick back up locking eyes once again.

When they talked, Daenerys had been her singular focus, but she'd again thought that was just Yara. The woman was intense at the best of times and downright hawk-like during battle. And she had lapped up that attention, that much was true. People fawned over her all the time, nobles and the like but Yara spoke to her as an equal because she WAS an equal. It was utterly refreshing.

How could the Iron Born possibly think she would not be enough? Why wouldn't she think she would pick her over anyone else. She was a rightful Queen of her own lands, a strong leader, warrior and tactician, had an entire navy at her disposal now that the usurper Euron was no more.

Her late husband came to mind. She had talked of him to the Greyjoy, even mentioning the painful memory of the child they were to have together.

"She's not a man. She cannot give me heirs."

Her own voice echoed slightly off the yard walls and she snorted.

Her dragons were the only children she would ever have. She'd accepted that now. But Yara didn't know that. "Dammit." The Queen Of Rock and Salt would surely have considered that. Heirs were everything in Westeros. A continuation of your line, an unbroken thread of power. Countless wars has been fought and battles won and lost when a ruler died and no legitimate heir was to be found. Continuity was key. She would have to address that herself sooner or later. But that was for another day.

This would be so much easier if she could _talk_ to Yara.

Head snapping up, she finally had her answer.

Striding purposefully out of the gate, almost giving her bodyguard a heart attack she strode away, calling behind her, "Grey Worm, I need you to find Varys and Lord Tyrion. Have them meet me in the Red Keep. I have work to do!"

The Unsullied captain quickly caught up with her and nodded.

"Yes Khaleesi. Have your thoughts born fruit?"

She turned to him with a rakish grin, all worry gone from her countenance. She oozed confidence, not a bone of doubt left in her body.

"Indeed they have my friend. Indeed they have. I know now what I must do. _Exactly_ what I have to do."


	6. Chapter 6

She'd arrived home days earlier, unexpectedly but victorious. There had been much feasting and celebration on Pyke after she'd sat the Salt Throne. Had the Driftwood and Iron Crown placed on her head. Walked the halls of her family's castle, finally as Queen. But she still felt more at home without a crown atop her head, puttering about in her small log hut in the nearby village than in her childhood room behind strong stone walls as royalty.

Sat oiling her sword in said hut, a commotion and raised voices outside drew her from her task and she stepped out, blinking back the harsher light reflected off the cresting waves on the shore.

Everyone seemed to be pointing high in the sky and shouting.

And then she saw what they saw.

The unmistakable outline of a large, winged creature advancing towards them.

A dragon.

The reactions of those around her ranged from fearful to excited to bewildered.

Yara's reaction was more visceral: her stomach dropped, her heart beat faster and her throat closed. But she gave no sign of any of that outwardly, only swallowing hard and closing her eyes briefly before shouting over everyone else, "EVERYONE! Everyone! Do not be afraid! I know this creature! It WILL NOT harm us! Everyone back up to the houses and try and remain calm! Go! GO!"

She was Queen now and the people grumbled but obeyed their Queen, moving slowly back. Yara stayed where she was though, alone on the beach until her 2nd and 3rd in command stepped up to join her. "Winchall, keep the people back a safe distance. You know how far Dragon fire reaches. Yann, keep an eye on everyone. I don't want a child blundering over here and accidentally becoming a spit roast."

The men next to her nodded and then turned away to do their jobs, leaving Yara to watch as it became clear it was Drogon, by the size of him, and that meant only one thing. Daenerys would be riding him.

The massive beast swirled overhead once, twice then came in to land, overshooting the beach a little, his claws digging into the grassy hill that bordered it's length as he came to a stop, prancing like a downed bat, his huge wings blowing Yara's hair like a hurricane.

The Ironborn Queen's jaw set firm as, yes, indeed, a tiny blonde woman stepped down from her mount and patted the creature's fearsome cheek lovingly. The beast lapped up the attention then fixed Yara with a hawk-like gaze.

She shuddered – she'd met him before, but being the sole focus of so awesome an animal was unnerving – but stood stock still, right hand resting on the pommel of the sword at her side.

Daenerys turned and took in the other woman as she began to walk toward her. The Greyjoy had braids in her hair, no doubt left over from her coronation ceremony, but apart from that she looked no different than the last time she'd seen her, that evening on the top of the Red Keep.

The day after that she'd found her gone without a word and the memory of that suddenly swept away all her carefully considered opening statements and instead overruled her common sense.

"BY THE OLD GODS AND THE NEW, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING LEAVING LIKE THAT!"

Yara, having been braced for the gushing announcement of an impending, lavish marriage or perhaps an inquiry on how her coronation went, rocked her head back as if slapped.

The Mother Of Dragons never broke stride and kept coming, jabbing a finger at her erstwhile friend to emphasise every angry point until Yara had to back up lest their faces touch nose to nose.

"YOU TAKE MY ENTIRE NAVY AWAY WITHOUT A SINGLE WORD! YOU REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY PRESENCE WITHOUT EXPLANATION OR CONSIDERATION! YOU….HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING! I'M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU! HEY! COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW GREYJOY OR SO HELP ME!"

But Yara, having cracked her jaw initially at the start of the tirade, was Queen of the Isles she stood on and would have no one, not even the Mother Of Dragons, dress her down in front of her people. Not even if she so richly deserved such a dressing down. So she turned on her heel and walked calmly away, ignoring Targaryen shouts, knowing Daenerys would likely not follow her and leave Drogon unattended in a strange place with so many people around.

The furious blonde followed her progress away until the Lady Reaver Of Pyke disappeared into a large old log building that looked like something like a meeting hall with a loud slam of the door.

Scowling royally she clenched her fists and growled, gaze flicking to the assembled crowd and sighed. She couldn't follow her of course. She had Drogon to consider. Without him she would never have gotten to Pyke so quickly, as only two weeks had passed since Yara left. She had come as soon as she was able. Westeros didn't rule itself though and she'd had to make a multitude of arrangements before she could realistically leave and follow the Greyjoy.

Drogon huffed menacingly and she turned to find a weathered looking man with ginger hair and full ginger beard approaching.

She, thankfully, recognised him. "Winchall, it's good to see you again."

"Your Grace. _Khaleesi_. Likewise." He grimaced. "Yara, I mean, _Queen_ Yara is…"

A fine boned hand raised, halting his pending excuse, "…Yara and does not need you to apologise or explain on her behalf. I'll deal with her later."

He smirked, knowing well that this tiny slip of a woman could indeed very well deal with his Queen. She was one of few who could.

"However, a more pressing matter is Drogon." His eyes followed hers back to her Dragon. "I would be grateful if you could help me arrange a bed for him. I cannot leave him here unattended as I doubt anything pleasant would occur if I did so."

Winchall gulped. "A bed?!"

Daenerys laughed. It was a delightful sound, carefree and genuine.

"Not a bed like you or I sleep on. Something altogether more rough and ready. If we construct one I know he will stay put, especially if he is fed as well. That would ease my mind and allow me to attend to the business I came here for."

"Fair enough your Grace. What do you need me to do?"

It took a little while to set up. Many of the crowd of onlookers were begrudgingly roped into collecting rounded boulders from the beach, about the size of cannonballs and arranging them in a rough circle, tightly packed to make a sort of circular platform. Once the Khaleesi deemed it wide enough, driftwood was sought and piled high, covering the platform and was then set alight. She explained the fire would heat the boulders and warm them enough to entice Drogon to lay on them. Dragons loved heat after all. They were of fire.

The blonde arranged and paid for several sheep to be brought and tethered near the fire and for the area to be off limits to everyone, for their own safety. She didn't want anyone getting killed because they couldn't hold their curiosity. Winchall assured her he'd post guards at a safe distance and all would be well.

As they'd collected the boulders, Dany noticed a little girl with straggly blonde hair sitting by herself against a nearby log hut. She held a tatty rag doll in her hands and her eyes were glued to the Dragon on the beach. She didn't look frightened, just overawed and the Targaryen wondered why she hadn't come any closer.

"Who is that girl?"

Winchall followed her gaze and grimaced. "That's Ayla. She's a cripple. Legs don't work. Orphan. Why?"

No wonder she hadn't come any closer. She couldn't.

Before she knew what she was doing, Daenerys was striding over and dropping to an elegant crouch in front of her.

"Hello." Wide, awestruck eyes pulled themselves from the dragon and fixed on her. Silence greeted her, so she tried a different tack. Fingering the tatty material in the rough shape of a doll she smiled. "Hello." She shook the tiny arm of the doll in greeting, prompting a small smile from the girl.

Again, speaking to the doll and not the child, she continued. "Do you see that dragon over there on the beach? He's mine. He's called Drogon."

Dishevelled blonde hair whipped back and forth as the girl looked at Drogon then at the woman in front of her.

It would be a little while until the fire died down enough that the rocks would be ready, so she thought she'd have a little fun before going and confronting Yara.

"Would you like to ride him Ayla?"

It was a toss up which was more astonishing to the little girl: the idea she could actually ride on a dragon or that this mysterious stranger already knew her name.

"R-Ride him?"

Daenerys smiled. "Yes. Ride him. With me. His bed isn't quite ready, so you'll be doing me a favour if you help me take him for a ride."

Ayla looked overjoyed. And then utterly bereft. "But I can't walk." Her eyes welled, knowing it was hopeless.

Dany leaned in, as if imparting a vital secret. "Y'know, you don't need legs to fly. Just wings." Then she winked. Awesome hope in the little girl before her bloomed before her eyes, all tears utterly forgotten.

"Come on. Let's go. Dragons don't just fly themselves you know." She turned round, obviously urging the girl into a piggyback. When thin arms wound around her neck and held, she stood up, reaching back and lifting unfeeling legs with her arms up to her hips and away they strode, ignoring the bewildered looks thrown their way. The girl's discarded rag doll watched them go with it's fixed smile.

"When you meet him, don't reach your hand out until I tell you, alright? And don't move suddenly until I tell you either. He has to sniff you first to get to know you. But you'll be with me so you'll be completely safe. Drogon is my Son. You'll be fine."

And she was. She stayed a statue as he blew giant huffs of air against her skin, his large eye turned to focus on her, sat as she was on his Mother's back. The little girl was scared witless, but she did what she was told and when prompted, reached forward and ran her fingers over the smooth yet scaly skin of a creature until recently thought passed into legend. And when Daenerys finally reached up and plopped her down onto the giant beast's back then joined her, holding her around the waist with one arm, her smile almost broke her tiny face.

She looked over at the envious eyes of the crowd as her new friend shouted " _Sōvēs!_ " and with a blink of an eye they were rising into the sky, massive wings beating like war drums to raise them there.

Dany had the dragon swoop and soar and even took him low enough for his wing tips to skim the surface of the sea. During it all, Ayla shrieked and laughed, giggled and shouted, eventually realising her vice grip on the arm around her middle to hold her arms out to the sides.

It felt like SHE was flying.

She felt elated.

She felt free.

Eventually it was time to return. As they neared the beach, the Targaryen spotted a scuttled wreck of a boat off to one side. A devilish grin crept over her face and she steered Drogon towards it.

"Hold tight Ayla! _**DRACARYS!**_ _"_

Those who remained of the crowd gasped and some ran for their homes as Dragon fire lanced through the air, hitting the scuttled boat square-on, immediately setting it ablaze.

Then Drogon landed where he had before and when his passengers stepped down and away, immediately crept over to the now cleared platform, eyeing it carefully before settling in, feeling the blessed heat, the warmth of the boulders soothing his belly.

Daenerys, Ayla hanging from her neck, piggyback style once more, walked them over to the huge log building, and seeing no one stopping them from entering, went inside.


	7. Chapter 7

The interior of the log hall was more dim than outside, lit by a central fire pit and candles flickering on rough tables around the edges.

Carefully dropping Ayla down on one of those tables, she exchanged a grin with the girl, their exhilarating shared experience and long blonde hair making her feel a sort of stranger-kinship. Ideally she'd love to help the crippled orphan further but there were more pressing matters at hand.

She had to find Yara. Which was made entirely too easy as raised voices from the far corner of the hall caught her attention, loud and angry: one of them was obviously her missing friend.

And she was very obviously drunk.

"The Drowned God take ya Pen! _I WANTSS ANOTHER!_ "

Pen was having none of it however, gesturing wildly at a group of fair sized barrels mounted horizontally against the wall. "ANOTHER!? That was only cracked this mornin' and it's already a quarter down! I dunnae care if you're Queen or the Drowned God incarnate woman, yer not gettin' another drop!"

Daenerys watched as Yara downed the last of her wooden tankard, banging it down on the table and tensed with alarm as the other woman stumbled out of seat and yanked hold of the grizzled man's rough shirt in her two balled fists. "I CUN STILL STAN, I CUN STILL PUT YOU ON YA ASSSSS AN DON…" Her legs gave out then which saw her sink slowly to her knees, but she still had tight hold of Pen's shirt, causing him to bend over as she went down. "I cun still…I cun….drank…DRINK….I cun still…"

Pen prized her fingers off him as gently as possible, shaking his head. "No Yara, ye cannae lass. Look at ya. What's happened to ye? It's no way for a Queen to behave. What ya need is a bed and tae sleep it off."

Slumping over to the left, the Salt Queen sat and leaned heavily against the table she'd been sat at as her eyes slid closed, deep scowl still in place.

Dany frowned too. She knew Yara could hold her liquor. She'd witnessed as much on their voyage before the battle for the Iron Throne. But the fact the Iron Born had managed to drink almost a quarter of a fair sized keg of ale in only the time she herself had taken giving Ayla a flight and arranging Drogon's bed was staggering.

And disturbing.

Her first instinct was to stride over and take charge, to take care of her. Gather her up in her arms and comfort her as the other woman had done so for her.

But the thought of Drogon lingered and she knew she must see to him before she could finally be free for the rest of the night.

Winking at Ayla, she slipped out the door, sparing a quick glance back at the figure slumped on the hard packed, earth floor.

Outside she set about finding Winchall and arranged for a handful more sheep to be brought and tied near to the still slumbering dragon on the beach as he'd already eaten the first lot. Glad she'd remembered to bring a pouch of coin with her, she also enquired if she should seek out the owner of the scuttled boat she'd had her Son burn. It had mainly been for Ayla's amusement, but it never hurt to demonstrate such a show of strength to the crowd that had been assembled there. Most had never met her, but all now knew the force she controlled and knew she had no hesitation in wielding it.

Upon learning the burning of the scuttled wreck had actually done them a favour – one less obstacle to snag fishing lines on – she thanked Winchall and turned, content in the knowledge her dragon was well fed and comfy, walking back to the hall.

However, upon entering, she found both Ayla and Yara gone. Only Pen remained, gathering used tankards and platters in a bucket to be cleaned for use the next day, presumably.

She cleared her throat, prompting him to turn and regard her.

"Yara? Where is sh…"

Pen cut her off. "Boys took 'er off."

Daenerys bit her cheek. She fleetingly wished Grey Worm were with her so she could simply ask him to _make_ Pen tell her. Then she sighed, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She wasn't her Father. Or her elder Brother. She was supposed to be breaking the wheel, not breaking bones. Patience. _Be patient_ ….

"Do you have any idea where they may have taken her? Pen, is it? I need to find her Pen. She and I have much to discuss."

He narrowed his eyes at her then and looked her up and down, but quickly dismissed her. All nobles looked alike to him, with their fancy clothes and overly flowery way of speaking. Except Yara of course. But Yara was the exception to just about every rule in the Iron Isles.

He sucked at his teeth and considered. "This _discussion_ of yours. Will it likely 'ave her crawlin' off tae drain another barrel or 'ave her soberin' up and acting like 'erself again? Hmm? Tell me _that_?"

Those from the Iron Isles were a hard people, but all the ones she'd come across so far held a subtle warmth inside them if you cared to look hard enough, and a crisp, dry wit. Pen obviously cared about Yara, though Dany knew he'd probably rather cut his own tongue out than admit it. He'd cut off her drinking and now was probing Daenerys's intentions.

She relaxed her shoulders fully, displaying a wry grin. "I'd like to think our pending _discussion_ will put Lady, I beg your pardon, QUEEN Yara, in the very best of moods with extremely little need for liquor Pen. In fact, I'd hazard a guess the next time she demands another ale from you will be in celebration and not to drown her sorrows, perceived or otherwise."

 _Damned nobles and their damned flowery tongue._ But he got the general gist.

Flicking his chin in the direction of the door, he sighed. "Could be anywhere. But they could've hauled 'er back to 'er cabin to sleep it off. Third from the end nearest the beach. Got a Kraken on the door. Iron. Rusted."

The Mother Of Dragons nodded her thanks and took her leave.

Once she was out of earshot, Pen scoffed to himself. "Good luck lassie. Yer gonna need it with that one..."


	8. Chapter 8

The Kraken was indeed well rusted; the rich red-brown colour weeping down the wood of the door from weathering, almost as if the beast itself was crying.

Daenerys thought it apt as she knocked. Then, upon receiving no answer, banged her fist instead.

Nothing.

She grit her teeth and took hold of the iron ring latch half way down and turned, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't and the door creaked inward. Looking around for anyone watching and finding herself alone, she stepped inside and was enveloped in a space utterly unlike any royal residence she'd ever been in.

The walls held tattered pieces of what looked like sails, each piece displayed like tapestry and each ragged piece had at least part of an embroidered Kraken - a disjointed tentacle end here, a gaping beak there, a beady eye – and all were different, dark, earthy colours, ranging from black, through brown to a murky green.

Further examination found a candle stub, almost guttered which she took up and used to light the other candles dotted about and finally the small fire pit dug into the floor at the far side of the room.

The extra light revealed to her carved wooden objects, examples of scrimshaw up on a couple of shelves, (some fine, some haphazardly rough, some finished, some in progress), a sword belt, sword and daggers hanging from the only chair, a wooden chest against the front wall and a large bed covered with various generous furs.

Running a hand along them she found they were silky smooth to the touch with incredibly thick pile and she wondered what kind of animal they were from.

The room was sparse, functional but held a real warmth and rugged beauty to it, much like the woman it belonged to.

Daenerys smiled.

This was Yara's space. It held no pretence, no fine things, no riches, no elaboration. Everything in it obviously held great meaning and memory to the Greyjoy.

Dany loved it.

She reached out to run a fingertip over a highly worked tusk on a shelf when raucous voices outside pulled her attention, the door slammed open and revealed it's owner, head lolling down, supported between two strapping, bearded men who stumbled upon finding the room occupied.

Everyone stared at each other, rooted to the spot, until the Mother Of Dragons cleared her throat and stood aside to let them in.

The men looked at each other then came to some sort of mutual agreement and manhandled Yara over the threshold, past Dany then unceremoniously dumped their Queen on her bed like a sack of flour. She flopped backwards like a rag doll, arms reaching up towards the driftwood headboard as if surrendering.

The blonde fixed the men with a pointed stare. "I don't suppose the Iron Isles have a potent remedy for those who over-imbibe?"

At the question, both men barked out a hearty laugh - obviously what she'd asked was somehow laughably ridiculous - then turned and loped out, slapping each other on the back. Their continued laughter grated on Daenerys until they finally faded into the distance.

She propped her hands on her hips and turned, gazing down at her prone friend with a sigh.

"What have you done to yourself Greyjoy? You smell like the bottom of a bloody barrel…."

Legs dangling off the side of the bed, she knew the other woman couldn't sleep comfortably in that position, so set about making her more comfortable.

Yara was taller than her, and she was a seasoned sailor and a warrior, so her body was packed with more muscle and sinew than anything else which made her awkward to manhandle, unconscious as she was.

The blonde started with her boots, removing them and placing them by the wooden chest, then stripped her of her leather over jacket, leaving her in leather breeches and a rough linen, sleeveless shirt.

Her upper arms were well defined even relaxed in sleep. The mark of someone who wielded a sword and knew how to use it.

Daenerys traced a fingertip over a bicep, voice a mere murmur, "So strong. But then you've had to be, haven't you…." There were scars here and there. Most were small and faded with time. She would have to ask about each and every one someday. Hopefully someday soon.

Shaking her head at herself she removed her own shoes and crawled up onto the bed to set about hauling the other woman up until her head reached the pillows. Pillows which turned out to be feather soft and rather luxurious, very much at odds with the rest of the room.

Once Yara was laying as she should, the Mother Of Dragons flopped down beside her, puffing at the exertion, eyes slipping closed. "Phew! Remind me to ask Grey Worm for some training. I'm going soft. Just because the battle is won, now is no reason to slip." During her time with the Dothraki she had been lean but fit. Walking for days, riding horses and the like tended to do that. Sitting around drinking wine in the Red Keep has undone some of their good work.

The warmth of the room, the proximity of the Greyjoy and the stress of the previous weeks all worked on her and she slipped off to sleep without realising.

Only to jerk away some time later to the sound of pained shouting.

Bleary eyes took in the candles, still lit and most still burning so it had only been a little while at most she'd been asleep.

"Ev…Eviss…. _NOOOOOOOOOO!_ "

The body next to her thrashed and moaned, obviously trapped in a nightmarish dreamscape.

"Shhhh, shhhh Yara. It's alright. You are safe…."

But the soothing words did little to calm the unconscious woman. Her balled fists, knuckles white, were held up as if fighting some unseen foe and the grimace on her face was obvious.

Daenerys tried running a hand over her damp, matted hair but that also had no effect. A memory came to her and she bit her lip then squared her shoulders and grabbed Yara by her shirt, pulling her forward up from the bed, then scooted behind her, hauling her up a little until her back was against the headboard and Yara's back leant upon her chest.

She worked her arms around her compact body and pulled her in close, arms around her chest and shoulder, hoping the warmth of another body and being held would ease the nightmare that had her in its grip.

It worked almost immediately and she sighed in relief, continuing to whisper comforting words into a nearby ear, running her fingers repeatedly through dirty brown hair.

Yes, Yara reeked of ale and her hair was slightly damp with sweat, but the blonde revelled in the fact she could sooth her, that she was finally in her arms after learning of her hidden feelings and having the other woman removed from her life so suddenly.

The body in her arms jerked suddenly and Dany realised she was now awake.

"Ack. _By tha old Gods…._ "

Yara made to sit up but the Queen of Westeros tightened her hold, keeping her in place. "Shhh, relax."

Taught muscles went slack at her command, relaxing back fully into her. She quirked a grin. Who knew the Greyjoy was so easily ordered around, even if she was drunk…

A hand came up and tangled in her long blonde hair, playing with the ends.

"Hmmmm….m'in Mereen…."

A beat, then realisation struck. Yara thought she was back in or still in Mereen. No doubt in a prostitute's bed. Daenerys felt a little sick at the thought.

She sighed deeply, prompting a palm to slap against the outside of her thigh playfully. "S'ok love. _Bit of a rest_ an we'll go again. Just need to get me second wend…. _wend….WIND_!" she finished triumphantly. That prompted Yara to giggle to herself - not chuckle, **giggle** \- and the blonde came to the obvious conclusion she was still very much drunk.

Hmmm. Actually, this could be interesting. Very interesting. Drunken thoughts were sober deeds. Or was it the other way round? No matter.

If Yara thought she was some sort of pleasure house whore, then that's who she'd be. At least for a time.

Voice smooth as silk she whispered in Yara's ear, "What were you dreaming of?" Then for added realism, she licked the lobe under her lips and nibbled on it.

The Greyjoy shivered and sighed. "Avissss…."

"And who is Aviss?"

"She wus mine. A looooong time ago. Ago? Thass a funny word. Ago. Ag. Oh…"

Yara was a mildly amusing drunkard apparently.

"What was she like, this girl who was yours a long time ago?"

The Lady Reaver Of Pyke didn't answer for so protracted a length of time, Dany was just about to repeat her question, but then a heartbreakingly sad, broken voice murmured, "'Twas wunnerfull. Was everything. Was mine. Loved her. Soooo in love wiv her. Never got to tell her. Never got ta say it. Came back 'n she was gone. Dead. Never got to..."

Daenerys listened, heart breaking, then it split in two as the body in her arms shook with silent sobs. What had she done? She shouldn't have asked her about this. Not when she wasn't in complete control of herself.

Squeezing Yara tight she cooed and soothed with lips pressed to damp hair until the other woman relaxed once more.

A soft sigh. "You even _sound_ like her. No wonder I picked ya!"

What? What were the odds that the Mother Of Dragons and this long dead girl sounded alike.

"I do?"

The Greyjoy snuggled back more happily into the arms that held her. "Yup. My Stormborn. _My Khaleesi_. Hmmmm…."

Ohhh…

Well, _that_ , at least, made total sense.

Dany deliberately chose to ignore the vaguely disturbing notion that Yara had been fucking prostitutes based purely on their resemblance to her. But she filed it carefully away for another more opportune time (it provided more than ample scope for, at the very least, relentless teasing and at the most, quality ammunition for the arguments they would surely have) and instead she chuckled.

"I do? _Interesting_. And what's _she_ like, this Stormborn person?"

Yara titled her head back, eyes closed, a blissful smile on her lips.

" _ **She's the sea…..**_ "

Her tone made it seem like _the sea_ was the most luxurious, decadent thing Westeros had ever seen instead of the sometimes wild, often deadly body of water everyone knew it could be.

Then Theon's words came back to her, _"The sea is her joy. The sea is her home."_

She couldn't resist. It was wrong and she knew it but she was caught up in the moment and just couldn't resist. "Do you love her? Your Khaleesi?

A quiet, " _More than Aviss_." caused her heart to race like a Great Grass Sea stallion and a thrumming warmth to flood her body.

The smile of wonder was obvious in said Khaleesi's reply, "Then you should tell her."

The head beneath her lips shook slowly, silently, side to side.

"No? Why ever not?"

Yara shrugged, infuriating the object of her desire. "S'weddin another…"

Dany rolled her eyes. "But what if she _wasn't_?"

Another shrug, "Wouldn't matter. 'Ave nothin' to give 'er. Nothin' she needs, wants." She threw a hand out, gesturing haphazardly around the room. "Mother 'o Dragons not be needing any of this."

Daenerys thought she might strain her eye balls at this rate, considering how often she'd been rolling them. " _Perhaps_ it is not material possessions she _needs_. _Perhaps_ it is something more. Something that money cannot buy. Have you ever thought of _that?_ "

The blonde couldn't see it, but Yara scowled. This conversation was becoming tiresome and her head hurt something fierce. "Am pretty sure I paid ya fer talents other than philosofiss….philosofiz….philos…. _talking_ woman!" Another slap to her thigh. The Greyjoy tried to turn in her arms but was again held tight. "Oh, wanna play it like that eh? Feisty! Fair enuff…" Wrists were held out together in front of her, obviously offering to be bound.

Khaleesi's eyebrows nearly took refuge in her hairline.

"No? Pfft. Suit yerself. 'M comfy anyhoo…." Snuggling back, Yara let out a sigh and slipped her hands along the arms that held her, lacing their fingers together and squeezing.

Yara Greyjoy was heartbreaking and confusing and hard and soft and funny and infuriating and strong and fragile and a thousand other things.

The woman in her arms was a conundrum. A puzzle she had to solve.

But solve it she would.


	9. Chapter 9

Morning found Yara waking to a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like a rat had died in it. The previous week. It had not been a good death.

Groaning, she hoisted herself to sit up and cracked an eye. She was in her own bed. That was something at least.

The previous night was fuzzy and confusing and she held her head in her hands and tried her best to make it all coalesce, but the pounding in her temples roundly beat back her efforts until she finally gave up, flopping back, groaning heavily anew.

She was going to find Pen and give him a direct order never to let her touch a drop of ale again. Pfft, who was she kidding? She'd probably have a tankard as soon as her bloody hangover was gone.

Speaking of hangovers, there was only one sure way to wake up a brain addled from sleep and drink.

With a strength of will most men would have paid coin for, she rolled out of bed and looked down at herself, frowning. "Hmmm, least I didn't lose all my clothes gambling again…"

Throwing her door open and wincing at the **_BANG!_** she determinedly put one foot in front of the other, eyes slitted against the harsh morning sunlight, until her bare feet hit the beach, then she shed piece after piece of her remaining clothing as she went, until she reached the water and, blessedly naked, dove into the chilly waves.

The bite of the icy brine instantly cut through her hangover and she surfaced, spluttering, throwing her head back, a shower of water spraying off in an arc as she attempted to get her wet hair out of her eyes. Rubbing at said eyes she slapped at her cheeks and shook her head rapidly, making a ridiculous sound with her floppy, relaxed lips.

Breathing deeply, she floated on her back for long moments. Gradually she felt more human so turned over and made her way back to the shore, striding out of the gentle surf naked and dripping wet.

The last piece of clothing off was the first piece on, which was fortuitous, because that's how Daenerys came upon her, dripping wet, dressed in just her rough shirt that hung at mid thigh.

"Oh!" The Queen of All Westeros didn't let out strangled squeaks. Of course she didn't. Anyone who was listening must have been mistaken.

Yara's eyes shot up, going wide as platters, eyebrows crawling up her face. The leather trousers she'd been about to slip back on hanging limply in one hand.

It was a faintly amusing scene – two powerful women, Queens no less, staring at each other with their mouths hanging open. Gently lapping waves were the only sound for several beats, until Yara firmed her jaw, then she was all action, furiously snatching up her clothing piece by piece in double time like a crab picking tasty morsels out in the deep.

She was almost back to her hut before the Mother Of Dragons could gather her wits enough to speak.

"WAIT!"

Iron door latch in hand, the Lady Reaver Of Pyke stopped but didn't turn round or speak.

"I…" and of course, Dany's words failed her just at the moment she needed them most.

Of course Yara knew she would eventually have to talk to the other woman. She couldn't run forever. She knew it the moment she'd swooped down on Drogon. But the Drowned God take her if she wasn't going to do it at a time of her choosing, when she was fully clothed, not soaking wet and especially not moments after battling the worst hangover she'd had in years. She would give herself precious time to repair her mask and gird her loins. It was the only way she'd survive the conversation. IF she survived intact at all.

Nose nearly touching the rusted Kraken on her door she bit out a clipped, "I'll be at the castle this evening. Find me in the Throne Room. We can talk then."

And with that she escaped into the blessed sanctuary of her cabin, slamming the door behind her and leaning back against it, as if that simple act would prevent Daenerys storming in if she had a mind to.

The Targaryen predictably wore a frown as she watched her quarry flee.

Yet again.

"Oh I'll find you then all right! If you think running to Castle Pyke will save you you're sorely mistaken Greyjoy!" So what if she was muttering to herself all alone in broad daylight? Luckily there were no witnesses, apart from the rusted Kraken, and he kept his own council.

Deciding a good flight would be just the thing to ease the tension brought on by a repeatedly elusive Greyjoy, she turned, marching off towards Drogon. Perhaps by the time she landed again she would have an actual plan of attack fleshed out.

Once she had her dragon underneath her, she finally relaxed, eyes shut against the air as it rushed past her. She let him go where he pleased, not caring where they were, just that she was airborne.

Waves whipped by below her and she watched them, eyes becoming unfocused in her contemplation. She was Khaleesi, Mother Of Dragons and no feisty female pirate was going to best her.

It came to her then. She had been far too tentative. Too mindful of blindsiding Yara. Yara Greyjoy was a direct person who usually did not mince words or suffer fools gladly. She said what she meant (present situation apart) and took what she wanted. No apologies, no regrets, no second guesses. _**Direct**_.

"I should've kissed her the moment I set foot on Pyke, consequences bedamned!" Instead, she'd let the other woman continually twist and squirm away like a slippery fish on a line. No matter if it was to the drinking hall, her cabin or a bottle, she should never have allowed it. She would never have allowed her to escape to Pyke had she known of her plans in advance.

But by the Old Gods and the New, she'd allow it no longer.

So she would go to the Greyjoy Castle and she would break down every door and overturn every stone until Yara was cornered.

And then, by all the Gods new and old, she would listen to what Daenerys had to say, without interruption or deflection.

She would enjoy stretching her wings a little longer, then she'd return and busy herself, attending to Drogon as before, seeing his bed set alight yet again and more sheep delivered and then she'd attend to her own comfort - find herself some food and something to drink. Then, fortified and sated, without a single care left to attend to, she would meet the Lady Reaver Of Pyke in her lair and have it out with her once and for all.


	10. Chapter 10

Leather sandals slapping against stone, the Khaleesi moved through the hallways of Pyke Castle much like an assassin intent on her mission.

Any poor souls she came across, they quickly moved out of the way. It was obvious she would not suffer fools impeding her steady progress to the Throne Room. Murmurs followed in her wake, but she paid them no mind.

Eventually the large doors to her objective loomed in front of her, halting her steps.

The two guards in attendance eyed her up and down. She was just on the verge of barking orders when they leaned shoulders in and opened the wooden barrier to let her through.

The overly impressive scene which greeted her almost prompted hysterical laughter. Which would have been awkward, but certainly apt.

It immediately became apparent that Yara had given up on the tactic of retreat and was now employing the tactic of…. _well_ ….

Rows of her Captains and fellow sailors were lined up on both sides of the impressive hall. All leading up to the woman herself, wearing her crown, sat imperiously on her throne.

Daenerys spared herself a tiny, humourless chuckle and raised an elegant brow. _Well played Greyjoy. Well played. But no matter. I'll still take the day whatever you throw at me…_

Calmly linking hands in front of her, she walked slowly, purposely, through the throng of men, calmly ignoring their hard gazes completely. Her attention riveted only on the seated Queen.

Once she was a comfortable distance away so that she wouldn't have to raise her voice to be heard, she stopped and cocked her head to one side slightly regarding those who surrounded them.

The throng of impressive men assembled so carefully there were so clearly a living shield. A guard to fortify a trembling heart. Against what possible emotions and circumstance, who can say? The almost desperate last stand of a woman with nowhere left to run to.

Yara looked every inch the Queen of the Iron Isles at that moment. Her usual slightly unkempt hair had been somewhat tamed, the crown of carefully intertwined driftwood and rusted iron sat comfortably on her head. The throne underneath her, made from what looked like slabs of actual pale white/pinkish salt, seemed made for her slight frame. She looked comfortable. At ease. Confident in her power.

But then the Mother Of Dragons noticed she gripped the arm rests of her seat of power so hard her knuckles were white. They stood out in stark contrast against the rest of her hands, tanned from weeks working in the open air.

And then Dany knew she had her.

It was all an act. With the slightest tilt of her chin she raised a brow.

"Do you seriously think _all_ _this_ will deter me from my purpose in coming here?"

The two women locked steely gazes for several beats then Yara answered, voice tight.

"So, should we _not_ stand on ceremony for the Queen Of All Westeros? The Mother Of Dragons, the Unbu…

 _Ah, deflection_. Dany cut her off. She knew her own names just fine. She was constantly being reminded of them after all.

"I do not wish _ceremony_. I certainly never demand it. But you _knew_ that."

Yara firmed her jaw. This was not going to plan. At all. _Damn her_.

The blonde broke their stare to glance around at the men watching them with keen interest.

"I was hoping to speak with you in private, but I suppose I can discuss this matter with your court present. After all, it does concern them in a roundabout way."

The Greyjoy took a breath and steeled herself for the certain blow of the announcement of Daenerys' impending wedding to wash over her like a bucket of sharp knives.

"I shall NOT be marrying the King Of The North. And you, Yara Greyjoy are a _coward_."

The silence that followed was broken only by gasps from the assembled men. Several reached for their swords. No one insulted their Queen to her face on her Throne and lived!

A weathered hand shot up, halting their murderous intent, as the Salt Queen sat with wide eyes.

Unfurling herself from her seat, her leather outfit creaking as she stood tall, Yara took a step forward, astonished and utterly confused.

"WHAT did you just say?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, the Mother Of Dragons appeared unconcerned.

"You heard me. You're a coward. Oh, and also _an idiot_."

Never taking her eyes from the blonde, the Lady Reaver Of Pyke stood for a beat then calmly stated "Leave us!"

When the assembled throng failed to move and started raising voices in protest she pinned them all with a murderous glare. "I SAID LEAVE US! NOW!"

Winchall, taking in the fraught scene and the potential for disaster, started pushing the men nearest him towards the door. "Out! C'mon! You heard your Queen! Move it ye bastards!"

When the last of the protesting sailors had been finally bundled out and the heavy wooden doors slid shut, only then did the Queen of Salt and Rock move forwards, stepping carefully down from the Dias to stand just out of arms reach of Daenerys.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Dany rolled her eyes.

"The meaning of this is you are an idiot. And a coward. And did I mention an idiot?"

"Daenerys!" The warning was growled, fists clenched.

"What!? It's the truth!"

Even Yara had her breaking point and she was fast approaching it. "GAH!"

She made a grab for a slim wrist and then she was dragging her, not ungently out of the hall and down a corridor, pushing open another door and almost throwing the Khaleesi into the room. Which turned out to be a bed chamber decorated in reds, browns and golds with a roaring fire in the hearth.

Stumbling, indignant, Dany turned on her, rubbing her wrist. "By the Gods, are you insane woman!?"

"Explain!"

"What? I'm not explaining myself to you! YOU'RE the one who ran away. YOU'RE the one who removed your friendship without a single word! YOU'RE the one who's been hiding at the bottom of a barrell since I got here yesterday! YOU explain yourself to ME!"

Yara strode to the fire, yanking her crown off to place it on the mantle then raked her hands through her hair, only to grab it with two fists moments later in frustration.

"I don't have to explain myself to you! _I'm_ the Queen here, this is _MY_ castle! By the Drowned God, you have no right to…"

But Dany cut straight back in. They were almost screaming at each other now.

"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO KNOW WHEN SOMEONE IS IN LOVE WITH ME!"

Yara looked like she'd been slapped. She looked stricken. Eyes wide and breathing rapid.

Dany wanted so much to go to her then, even as angry as she was. The other woman looked trapped, bereft, panicked. That the world had been pulled out from under her feet. But instead she turned and glanced at the door. Seeing there was a key in the lock she immediately strode over and turned it, locking them in.

Then she turned back, held up the key for Yara to see and dropped it down into the body of her dark blue travelling outfit, cocking her head smugly as if to say, _there, let's see you try to run away this time!_

The Greyjoy had watched her from across the room, with a sinking feeling. There really was no escape this time. Nowhere to run. She was at the other woman's mercy. At any other time that would have been a dream scenario, but now she just wanted a pit to open in the floor and swallow her whole. This was the very scenario she'd been trying so hard to avoid.

Her shoulders sagged and she leant heavily against the mantle which held her crown, head hanging down. It seemed apt somehow. She could almost hear her ancestors laughing at her.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. _Resigned_. "What do you want to know?"

Daenerys was relieved she could finally stop pushing and start getting answers. She walked over to a nearby table and poured herself and Yara some wine. But when she offered the glass, the Greyjoy caught her out of the corner of her eye and shook her head in reply.

"So many things. I want to know why you kept your feelings secret from me. I want to know why you left without saying a word – I was bereft, I was worried, I was confused, and I couldn't talk to my most trusted friend and confident because She. Wasn't. There."

The Greyjoy grimace was plain to see. It had hardly been her finest hour leaving as she did. She scrunched her eyes tight as if that would protect her from the coming blows.

"I want to know how you could do that, leave without one single word to me? Had our friendship meant nothing to you! I trusted you! Those months shared with you Mereen were some of the happiest of my life. And I thought you enjoyed them too!"

Yara finally turned and moved forward at that, imploring, "I did! By the Drowned God I did Daenerys!"

"Then _how_ could you leave me in King's Landing like that?!" Dany sounded so very young right then. Not at all like the powerful queen Yara knew her to be.

The Greyjoy looked at her. Really took her in for the first time in weeks. She looked upset, confused. She owed her an explanation. She knew she did. And it was long overdue.

"Sit" she sighed. "And gimme that damned wine…"

Offering the goblet, Dany watched as Yara stalked over and took it from her. Their eyes met briefly then Yara's skittered away as she turned and walked to a chair by the far wall, dragging it over noisily until she was closer, but still a safe distance away. The she sat heavily down, regarded her wine and immediately chugged half of it.

Eventually her eyes rose and fixed on her Khaleesi. Dany sat down in a chair at the wine table, unsure if her legs would support her fully after this conversation was over.

Sea green eyes slid shut and the Captain finally began to speak her truth.


	11. Chapter 11

"When I came to you in Mereen, I was desperate. Theon and I had nothing left but the men still loyal to us and some ships. I had nothing, but I stood before you with nothing and you sat there and welcomed us. Welcomed me. You spoke of remaking the world, of breaking the wheel and you were magnificent."

Yara couldn't help the appreciative grin that formed at her words as she leant forwards, elbows on her knees.

"I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you. You were this tiny, gorgeous creature with steel in her eyes and a devastating smile on her lips. I would've had to have been made of stone not to want you in my bed. It wouldn't surprise me at all if there was an actual creature made of stone somewhere in Westeros that was pining away in a cave for the want of you."

Even Dany gave a wry grin at that. She was used to men falling at her feet. But she knew all too well it was a blessing as well as a curse to be beautiful.

Yara sat up straighter and swirled her wine. "So we met. We flirted. We agreed on an alliance. But then in the weeks after that I made the simple error of actually spending time with you and I quickly realised you weren't just another Targaryen, lusting for power at all costs. You genuinely cared about the people who followed you. You cared about _everything_. You eradicated slavery, you broke chains and you not only promised freedom but you delivered on that promise again and again."

Yara's gaze became intense and Dany eventually looked away, cheeks turning a charming shade of pink.

"And then I compounded my mistake by pushing down that initial desire and being a friend to you. You had such a mammoth task to achieve, and yes, you had many following you but very few standing directly beside you. I, of all people, know how hard it can be to lead alone. You can have shipmates and friends, to a certain extent, but if you are the leader it all falls onto you in the end. If you lead, you lead EVERYONE around you. That leaves very little room for close relationships. Companionship. Warmth. But I wanted that for you. I believed in you Daenerys. I believe in your aims for this world and so I swore I would be what you needed me to be, and what you most needed was a friend, a confident to lean on, to talk with, rant at. Laugh with." They both smiled at that. They'd spent whole days, whole evenings it seems, laughing themselves hoarse with the help of wine and amusing stories.

Another sip of wine pulled the smile away from Greyjoy lips. "And so we were friends and we planned and plotted and worked our way towards your goal. And then we reached your goal. And then the goal was surpassed and all was well. I knew I had to go home at some point. The Iron & Driftwood crown cannot wear itself. But I put it off. Again and again. And then I walked into the Red Keep and there was Jon Snow…"

Yara looked pained and gulped down more wine. The Mother Of Dragons desperately wanted to prompt her to continue but kept her silence, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her lips sealed shut.

The next part clearly pained her to speak it. "I watched you flirt with him."

Dany frowned. Had she flirted with him? Jon Snow had indeed been charming and warm and they had got on well. So well in fact that she had agreed to send more men to The Wall as The King In The North seemed overly concerned with legends of White Walkers and mysterious goings on there. She's seen real fear in his eyes and took him at his word.

But _had_ she been interested in him? Her thoughts were interrupted when Yara spoke again.

"I watched you flirt with him and it suddenly struck me. Your task was complete. You had achieved your goal. Everyone around you had done their jobs and gotten you the Iron Throne. I saw you sat upon it and crowned Queen of All Westeros. My work was done. I was, essentially, obsolete."

Voicing immediate objection, Daenerys was quieted when her friend readily agreed with her. "I know! I know! I know you would never just cast me aside. That's not what I meant. I just mean, what I brought to the table – my navy – had been used and had done its job well. You didn't NEED it anymore. And yes, I know, I strong ruler needs a strong army and navy, but you didn't NEED it after battle was won like you needed it before. And in my mind, if you didn't need my navy then you'd have no further need of me."

That was almost painful to hear. "Oh Yara. How could you ever think that?"

"I never claimed it made sense. That's just how my mind approached it. Then Jon Snow was there and I made the mistake of talking to Tyrion and he mentioned you'd probably consolidate your power through marriage and it all clicked sickeningly into place before my eyes."

Theon had practically said as much to her before she'd left on Drogon.

Yara worked her jaw then continued. "It was at that _exact_ moment that I knew I was in love with you. Despite your protestations to the contrary, I am not an actual idiot. I'd had an idea of it before. I knew I preferred spending time with you rather than on my ship – which is as big of a clue as someone smacking me in the head with a jib – but it wasn't until that single moment that it hit me hard enough to almost bring me to my knees. _Quite literally_. I almost had to grab hold of Tyrion to support myself. This amazing woman who I'd grown so close to, who I'd wanted from the moment I'd laid eyes on her, who could literally walk through fire, ride Dragons and who'd defied all the odds ever placed against her until she was sat upon the birthright of her throne – THIS woman wouldn't just continue as she _was_. I couldn't just carry on walking by your side, being your confident and expect you to stay as you are. Tyrion only confirmed that. You would have to set about the job of ruling now. You would go about affirming your power, consolidating your rule. You would marry, if not Jon Snow, some other King, Prince or noble and they would stand by your side and help you break the wheel. Not me. Not I."

A humourless chuckle escaped her. "And I, in the best case scenario? I would stand by and watch as you and your new husband had children together, raised those sons and daughters to be good, fair leaders, Kings and Queens in their own right. I would stand, no longer by your side, but still in the same room, as your happiness grew and grew until the weight of it crushed me from the inside out. Because above all I _want_ for your happiness. So, if I'd stayed, I would have had to watch someone else make you happy. I'd been living in a sort of fantasy world of my own creation where I carried on making you laugh and we walked arm in arm every day and I never had to speak of my real feelings and as a result, you never had to know of my weakness."

Suddenly Daenerys was confused. "Weakness? What, LOVE? How could love ever be weakness"

The look Yara gave her then was pitying, withering with its wisdom. Like the answer should be pitifully obvious to anyone. "Khaleesi. Don't be _naïve_."

Blue eyes sparked fire. "Have a care what you say lest you cannot come back from it Greyjoy."

Holding hands up in surrender, Yara nodded, "I meant no disrespect. Let me put it this way. Take Cersei. Not the best example, I know, but humour me."

Blue eyes narrowed. "What of her?"

"How many of those Cersei loved are still alive?"

Well, that was obvious. Everyone knew that. Her personal losses were legendary.

"And, how many of those who Robert Baratheon loved are still alive?"

Oh. True. There _was_ a certain pattern of finality to Yara's devastating logic.

"More importantly, how many of those you yourself have loved are still alive Daenerys?"

The image of Khal Drogo, lying a shell of himself as she smothered him popped into her mind's eye. Her unborn child. Viserys. Countless others.

Greyjoy eyes saw her words had hit home. "Love is weakness Khaleesi. If it doesn't bring you to your knees it breaks your heart and rips it out in the process."

Dany sat forward a little in her chair. "And what would Aviss say if she heard you speaking this way?"

The moment the words were out, every bone in Yara's body stilled. It was utterly unnerving. So much so, Dany moved uncomfortably back in her chair again and put her wine down on the table.

The fire crackling was the only sound in the room as she held her breath. Something akin to fear skittered up Dany's spine. But Yara's anger wouldn't morph into something more dangerous, surely. Surely?

Green eyes glittered back murderously upon her and for a second she actually doubted her actions.


	12. Chapter 12

_**"**_ _ **Where did you hear that name?"**_ To say the words were growled would be an understatement.

But Daenerys Stormborn had walked through fire before and lived. She would do so again and survive. Only this time, the fire was Yara's fury.

"Does it matter?" She leant her head back until it touched the stone wall behind her chair, grounding her. "I notice you never answered the question. But then that's your new favourite thing, isn't it. Avoiding? Running away from things?"

 _ **"**_ _ **You will not speak of her again. Do you hear me woman?"**_

Dany laughed. "Nice try, but you don't scare me. And I'll speak of Aviss if I wish."

 _"_ _DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME!"_

And suddenly they were standing again, toe to toe, almost nose to nose now, hurling words like Dragon Fire.

"Who? Aviss? _Aviss?_ **Aviss!** Aviss! Aviss! What, you loved her and you can't even say her name? You loved her and now no one else can ever say it either?"

Dany watched, alarmed, as the pewter wine goblet in Yara's grip creaked then buckled in her fist.

With a scream of fury she spun and hurled it at the wall.

It crashed into the stone and fell to the floor, the Dornish red that splashed out dripping down like blood.

 _Like blood_. **Aviss**. _Blood_. **Aviss**. _So. Much. Blood._

The Greyjoy pressed her fists into her eye sockets, trying to rid her mind of nightmarish images. But the throat stayed firmly slit and instead she found herself crumpled on the floor, rocking back and forth muttering, _"No, no, no, no, no…."_

Dany ran to her then, slipping onto her knees and throwing her arms around her. They rocked back and forth together for long moments until drops of water started hitting Dany's wrist and she knew she had pushed too far. "It's alright. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's alright. Shhh. I have you. Shhh."

Yara sat, tears rolling down her cheeks but she refused to sob. She couldn't stop the tears, her body pumped them out regardless, but through sheer force of will she held her body in check at only that. The tears she'd shed over Aviss could fill entire rivers. She was so tired of it.

So very tired.

The warm arms around her felt wonderful. Daenerys' familiar scent, something exotic and musky, probably Dornish like the wine, invaded her senses. Calmed her. She didn't even register Aviss slipping out of her mind, being replaced by far more pleasant images. Her Khaleesi laughing, smiling, eyes shining, face radiant. _Because_ of her. _For_ her.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was soft and ragged and the tears continued to run, but she was in control of herself and her temper once more.

Dany just held her tighter, Yara's head tucked under her chin. Safe.

"For leaving. Without saying anything. I'm sorry."

Dany just shuffled them back slightly until she could lean her back against the foot of the bed. Pressing her spine back, she sighed quietly. "Did you know I cannot have children?"

When Yara made to pull away to look up and say something, she just held her even tighter, pressing her lips to the top of her hair. Avoiding eye contact made it easier somehow to speak of difficult things. "It is alright. I have known for some time my dragons are the only children I will ever birth. I have made my peace with it."

Yara nodded into her neck. "I'm still sorry. About that, I mean. Why did you never mention it?"

"For much the same reason as you never speak of Aviss I'd imagine."

She'd expected Yara to tense at the name, but when she didn't she was glad.

"You spoke of her. Last night, while you were drunk in your hut."

"You were in my cabin?" She didn't remember that at all.

Dany smiled. "Yes, I was there when two scintillating conversationalists hauled you in like a sack of mouldy potatoes and dumped you on your bed. I'd never seen anything quite so elegant actually."

Yara swatted weakly at her side and chuckled.

Dany prodded her side. "Who do you think took your jacket and boots off? You couldn't even stand so it couldn't have been you…"

That _had_ crossed her mind.

"So you undressed me and put me to bed? Well thank you _Mother_."

Dany scoffed. "Pfft! _Put you to bed_ indeed! You were helpless as a lamb, hanging half off your furs. I didn't want you ending up on the floor in a heap so hauled you up onto your rather luxurious pillows and before I knew it I was out like a light too. I woke some time later. You were obviously having a nightmare so I held you. Tried to sooth you. Luckily it worked."

Yara was touched. That anyone would do that for her. She couldn't even remember her Mother doing that as a child. Nightmares were an ever constant friend in the dark, where she had only her own mind and memories to keep her company. She was touched, but she heard a _but_ coming.

"But then you woke up." And there is was.

"Pray tell me what absolutely mortifying thing did I say or do now, that I'm sure you will me never, ever let me live down?"

Daenerys immediately felt guilty again, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "I asked who Aviss was. I know I had no right to, but in my defence, Theon had already spoken of her, so I was curious. I know it's not a very good defence, but you were drunk, you'd said her name, and I had a moment of weakness."

The fact nobody saw her roll her eyes didn't stop Yara from doing it. How Theon knew of Aviss though was a mystery. She'd certainly never mentioned her to him. She'd never spoken of her to anyone. "You said Theon spoke of her?"

Dany nodded. "He didn't know much. Just that he was told you loved her. And that you lost her. Horribly. I'm so sorry that happened Yara. So, so sorry."

Both of them were quiet then. Lost in thought.

"I never got to tell her I loved her. That I was in love with her." There. She had finally said it out loud after all these years. It hurt, but more like a dull blade than searing Green Fire.

Another nod. "You told me as much. Last night. But I'm sure she knew. Right? You probably showed her every day, in a million ways. Aviss, she would've known…"

" _ **You** didn't_."

Well, wasn't that just a perfect little razor sharp morsel of utter loveliness. Ouch.

"Yet again, _in my defence_ , my most ardent suitors don't usually tend to run away. Or, y'know, have breasts."

"Oh really? S'funny, I thought you were more of an ass girl myself."

And just like that, they were back to normal. Well, as normal as ever.

"I'll get back to you on that. Note to self: pay attention to the Greyjoy's ass. Speaking of whom, _you_ certainly seemed to like my thighs."

"Your thighs? What?" Sea green eyes, finally dry, popped up, sparking in the firelight.

"Last night. Oh, did I neglect to mention the rather magnificent part where you thought I was a Mereen 'Mother Of Dragons' fuckalike whore?"

Yara yanked herself away, leaning back and burying her head in her hands.

"Ugh. Oh Gods! NO. Kill me. _Kill me now_."

Dany bit back a laugh. This part was too much fun. "Oh yes. Apparently you pay good coin and don't like your women of the night to philosophise too much. Less talk, _more action._ "

"Oh gods, did I bloody say that?" Her voice was muffled by her hands but she was heard.

"I'm paraphrasing. However, you'll be overjoyed to know that even as a well paid Mereen whore I sound like me. So that's a plus. I believe you also spoke briefly about a little light bondage and how you'd be so utterly undesirable to me because you have, according to you at least, very little to offer."

Yara wanted to gnaw her own arm off in embarrassment, but that would mean she'd have to take her hands away from her eyes so she refrained. But it was a close run thing.

She peeked through her fingers and found Daenerys smirking at her.

"Oh shut up! I was off my tits on ale! I didn't see you spouting poetry when I helped you back to your room that time when you couldn't handle your wine."

Dany pouted. "That's because I hadn't drunk a quarter of a vat!"

A grimace and a shrug. "Heh. Fair point."

A comfortable silence descended then, as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the cool stone floor. Both had grins that slowly faded, but never truly disappeared.

"You were right about one thing though." The Mother Of Dragons sounded thoughtful.

"Oh? Just the one? Well, after my admittedly abysmal record over the last few days I'll take what I can bloody well get. Enlighten me?"

"I _will_ have to consolidate power. I do not mean to lose the Iron Throne now I have it."

Yara begrudgingly nodded. It would be what she would do in her place. The smart thing to do, even if she hated the idea with everything in her. "Of course, it would be foolish not to."

"Of course, if I were to marry, my betrothed would have to be someone that I could trust implicitly. Someone powerful in their own right. Someone who ruled their own lands. Someone with access to thousands of men who were skilled in fighting…."

With every extra point Daenerys brought up, Yara's heart sank a little further down.

Until finally it didn't.

"Someone who knows their way around a ship and with access to, say, an entire navy. Know anyone like that?"

Yara went very still. Only her head moved, turning very slowly around like an owl until their eyes met and locked. Blue eyes twinkled in mischief and perfect lips fought a smirk in vain.

The Greyjoy's voice but a whisper. " _What are you saying?_ "

Daenerys Targaryen sat and watched hope come flickering to life before her eyes. It was beautiful to behold.

"I am saying that I do not wish us to be parted again. I am saying I wish to consolidate my power with the help of the Queen and the people of the Iron Isles." She reached up and cupped Yara's cheek in her palm. "I am saying I need no man to stand beside me and rule. I am saying that you may not think you were ever one of my choices but I can assure you, you are the ONLY choice. _For me_."

Doing a fair impression of a fish out of water, Yara kept moving her lips until eventually a sound came out, "But…I cannot gi…"

"Give me children? Did you miss the part where that's not an option for me? We've been through this already."

Leaping to her feet Yara began to pace. "But you need heirs!"

Rising as well, the blonde moved and took a calm sip of wine. "So? I'm sure there are plenty of orphans around Westeros who would jump at the chance to be raised by the Queen of Salt & Rock and the Mother Of Dragons."

"You want us to raise a child!? We're not even MARRIED!"

Making a dismissive gesture with her free hand, the Khaleesi took another sip, unconcerned. "That's easily rectified. And I think it might be better if we raise two don't you think? One might get lonely when we're constantly off Queening."

"QUEENING! What the hell even IS THAT! What are you…." Then she saw it. That twinkle in the eye gave it away. Her Khaleesi was teasing her.

"BY. THE. GODS. You are an evil woman Daenerys Targaryen. First of her name? ONLY one of her name at the rate you're going! Why I should…

"What?" She challenged back. "Put me over your knee and teach me a lesson?" It was blindly obvious she was relishing the thought of it.

Green eyes narrowed. "Don't for a second think I wouldn't do just that. And if for a moment I thought you wouldn't thoroughly enjoy it, I would do it before you could blink."

"Oh, I don't know. I can blink pretty fast..."

As amusing as it was to watch the blonde fluttering her eyelashes with comical rapidity, this was getting them nowhere. Yara threw her hands up and brushed past her, retrieving her now misshapen goblet off the floor and refilling it with wine. It was difficult to ignore the shorter woman as she stepped up to the table and poured – her unique scent was delicious – but she grit her teeth and concentrated on not spilling yet more wine.

Finally, with drink in hand she put a little more distance between them.

"Can we be serious for a moment?"

"I AM being serious!"

A sigh. "No, you're not. You're teasing and being ridiculous. That's the very antithesis of seriousness."

Dany shook her head, exasperated and downed the rest of her wine. Then she was striding over like a woman possessed, poking a finger at the Greyjoy, forcing her to back up a step every time she backed up a point with a forceful poke in the shoulder. "Ha! I was right! YOU. ARE. AN. IDIOT!"

Backed right into the wall, Yara literally had nowhere else to go.

The blonde head shook again. "By the Gods! Did it never cross your tiny little mind that when you were falling in love with ME, I might have been falling in love with you right back!?"

Yara stared back at her, uncomprehending.

Dany relented. "You stood there in Mereen, Theon at your side and you oozed confidence. You practically proposed to me the first time you met me for goodness sake! You had practically nothing, but you stood before me like a conquerer, full of swagger and bravado. You were, quite frankly, ridiculously attractive! And then I slowly got to know you, and your friendship fitted into parts of me I didn't even know were empty. Before I knew where I was, seeing you had become the highlight of my day. I craved it. Walking arm and arm with you through the Great Pyramid. Discussing anything and everything. You made me laugh. So easily. And I you, inexplicably! You get my jokes. Nobody gets my jokes! But you did. You do."

It was true. Their rapport was almost effortless from the first.

"I saw you at the training ground at the docks once." Blue eyes ran hungrily down over Yara, fully clothed as she was.

"I had to take myself off to cool down afterwards. Watching you fight was….. _exhilarating_. I told Messandei I'd had too much sun that day. She just gave me a knowing smile and sent me off to the baths."

Yara's astonishment was quickly turning to elation.

Her Khaleesi wanted her. _Wanted HER._

But it couldn't be that simple. Could it?

Shakily, she fumbled to place her goblet down on a nearby sideboard, never taking her eyes away from their icy blue counterparts.

Goblet safely stowed, she turned every iota of her undivided attention to the woman in front of her.

"Are you saying…"

"Yes."

"But are you cert…"

"YES. Yara Greyjoy, no matter what question you ask me from this point onwards this evening, my answer will be YES."

Searching the blonde's eyes for any tiny hint of doubt, she found none.

Yara's smile was blinding.

Daenerys watched, eyes round and intent as the Lady Reaver Of Pyke finally stepped forward, palms reaching up, placing themselves gently but firmly in the space between her shoulders and breasts, then smoothing out, away from each other, and down. Down along her arms, then onto her sides, finally slipping round to take a firm hold, one between shoulder blades, one just above the swell of her backside and brought their bodies together from thigh to chest.

Yara's dark, fathomless eyes flitted up to her hairline, down to her lips, eyes, cheeks, chin, neck and back up, finally locking their gazes together.

Her voice was low. Firm. Knowing. _Sure_.

"I am going to kiss you. I mean to **_have_** you now. To make you _mine_." Then a slight softening by her eyes. "That is, if you'll have me?"

The Khaleesi's smile was also blinding.

" **Yes**."

Then quickly dropped into a serious, equally knowing expression. One hand travelled down Yara's back and firmly took hold of an ass cheek, the other moved up, working into the hair at her nape and grasped there tightly, possessively.

Her voice came equally low and serious.

"And I mean to have _you_ now. And I am going to kiss you too. For you belong to me. _With_ me."

A teasing wink. "That is, if you'll have me?"

Yara's grin was in infectious.

In a deft move, her hands travelled as one, under a pert ass and lifted. Daenerys' thighs came up, winding around the Greyjoy's waist and a delighted laugh fell from her soon-to-be lover's lips as the hand on her ass joined it's twin, fisting brown hair. Yara could barely talk for grinning.

" _Have you?_ Oh I'll have you all right. I'll have you till you can't walk straight for a week Targaryen!"

Pursuing her lips, the Mother Of Dragons tilted her head to the side and tightened her thighs around her prey. "Just a week? Tsk. Where's your **_ambition_** Greyjoy?"

This tiny, blonde slip of a woman would be the death of her – Yara was sure of it – but oh, _what a way to go_.

She walked her over, laid her gently down on the bed, then crawled up and sealed their lips together without further delay.

Both women moaned. More hands fisted hair and the kiss went from heated to scorching in moments.

Yara pulled back, gazing down in adoration, breathing heavy.

The Mother Of Dragons was in her bed, cheeks flush, looking up at her as if she had all the answers. An elegant hand reached up, tracing her cheek, then her jaw and green eyes slid shut as she leant into the touch of the soft palm.

"Love is never a weakness Greyjoy. This? This is the greatest strength the world will ever know. Not a dragon. Not an army or a navy. This. Just this. This is EVERYTHING."

Yara moved a hand up, tracing the blonde's bottom lip gently with the pad of her thumb. "How did you get so smart Targaryen? Hmm?" The use of their last names as terms of endearment was almost instant. Instinctive, much like everything else between them.

The weight of Yara on her as she held her like this was exquisite and just further proof of the rightness she felt. They fit. Like she was the sky and Yara the sea. "It started when I made a pact with a dashing rogue from the Iron Isles and I've been learning more every single day. Though I fear she must have been a pirate, for she stole my heart away and I haven't seen it since."

Then Yara leaned down once more and for the rest of the night two women, nay, two Queens, let their bodies speak of nothing but love.

It was EVERYTHING and it was _GLORIOUS_.


End file.
